


Desperate, obviously.

by luciohs



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Other, i dont fucken know what im doing, its really meant to be platonic but i mean read it however ya want, loootsa headcanon in this like pure headcanon almost au level headcanon, not sure what to put for the uh category so ill just.. leave it like that, probably gonna be an au by the time blizz gives us the lore we need
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 00:03:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10477578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciohs/pseuds/luciohs
Summary: "So whaddya say, big guy? Don't take much to watch out for me, just gotta have my back and all that 'til I'm outta here and catchin' a ride to anywhere but here."





	

Everyone wanted a piece of this rat.

Not all that many pieces left, some ragtag scavenger said once. "Almost the whole right side gone, a good chunk of its left ear missing, hair patchy and burnt. Can't miss it." 

Roadhog had heard about him.

But who hadn't?

His right hand rested on the seat of his chopper and he watched the little junker gang fall apart, literally, round bursts of flame. Should've broken it up, being an enforcer and all, but he wanted to see how this would play out. He knew too many people, big guys who didn't joke around with all the power they had, whose hands this fucker slipped through. With a bang, even. Most likely more than a few. He had overheard talk of homemade bombs. Nothing special, he reckoned. Probably had some sort of trick up his sleeve.

But as he watched this literal caricature of a junker chuck grenade after grenade after grenade he started to reconsider. The shouts grew muffled. A sharp laughter cut through the dusty night air.

Next thing he knew something started flying towards him and the laughter grew louder.

He didn't move.

He had looked old from afar. Young up close. Too young.

The rat just blew himself up.

And flew straight into Roadhog's gut, bounced off, and fell face-first into the dirt a few feet away with a loud yelp.

He scrambled to his feet-foot and peg?-and stared at the giant of a man in front of him. Eyes wild and pupils wide. His face broke into what Hog swore had to be the stupidest smile he'd ever seen.

"Well g'day to you, mate!" Hog narrowed his eyes as his ears were assaulted with what he swore had to be the most annoying voice he'd ever heard.

Some sort of re-purposed bot arm pointed at the few-four, to be exact-Junkers left from his little scuffle.

"Hey, hey, you see those motherfuckers down there? They got mad shit there. Real good stuff. I'm talkin' rad drugs, that kinda good. I'd take it myself but I reckon you might have a good time with 'em 'cause I've just got me knives here."

Hog snorted. Kid went on.

"And before you say it, yes I know I just told you I don't got any bombs left but I'm thinkin' Mr. uhh whatsyername here won't pass up a good opportunity and do I have the deal of a lifetime for you. As long as you off those cunts right down this here ridge. Then hear me out, yeah?"

The Outback. What's become of it. A balance of pride and reason and lies.

He raised his gun and the kid flinched hard and jumped to the side, flesh hand stuffing down the front of his shorts past the tattered belt, God knows why. (Well. He knew why. Wasn't really the front of his pants. He just found a bit of humor in it all.) He froze when the shotgun pointed at the base of the ridge. Four shots and their heads turned to bloody mush and he held the massive gun with its barrel facing the ground.

A moment passed and the kid pulled his empty hand out his pants and offered up a snaggle-toothed grin.

"So! You ready to hear me out?"

He nodded once and the kid's eyebrows raised a little and he held back a laugh.

"Right. So first off I'm pretty sure I know who you are, but maybe a little refresher on your, uh, handle might help clear things up, mate."

Roadhog raised an eyebrow behind his mask. The rat sensed it, or maybe he noticed the silence, and started up defensively.

"I know who you are and all. Junker enforcer, right? See? You're famous, don't get all worked up about it or nothin'. Just real bad with names. So you gonna talk or should I just clear outta here?"

"Roadhog."

The kid's eyes lit up with recollection and he whistled.

"Damn do you have a deep ass voice. Right, so, Mr. Roadhog sir. Junkrat here, nice ta meet ya. Those guys down there, not so much of-"

"What did you find in the Omnium?"

Some kind of fury took over Junkrat's face and aged it up a bit so he started to think maybe he was thirty or so and he barked back.

"None of your god damn business that's what!" Hostility fell victim to cunning. "Unless you make it your business." He cleared his throat and stood up straight and Hog noticed how tall and stick-thin he was. "Sixty-forty. I'll give you a massive cut on what I get for it. And lemme tell ya, forty-percent of it'll have you living like a king. All I need is someone to look out for my ass, make sure I don't die. So? Whaddya-"

"You even got a buyer?"

The kid looked offended again.

"Yeah I got a buyer!"

"How much you getting for it?"

Rat hesitates and Hog knows it isn't because he doesn't wanna tell him. He snorts.

"Damn right. Liar."

"Fine, okay, you dick. But I'll find one. Not a lotta blokes out here you can just trust right outta the blue. Sure you know that by now. Gotta find someone who won't waste it or something. Not tellin' you what it is just yet."

Tech, obviously.

"And lemme tell ya, I did my research on this. Just my luck you happened to be here just now, really. Didn't mean to knock into you, by the way. But you didn't even budge. If that ain't impressive, I don't know what is."

Flattery, obviously.

"So whaddya say, big guy? Don't take much to watch out for me, just gotta have my back and all that 'til I'm outta here and catchin' a ride to anywhere but here."

Desperate, obviously.

But he considered.

"So uh, we aren't really gonna be successful business partners if you don't start communicating sometime with all I'm puttin'-"

"Fifty-fifty."

The kid looked pained for a split second but he covered it up.

"Y'know what, just 'cause I like ya, deal."

"Of everything."

His eyes widen almost comically.

"Of every what?"

"You're a junker."

Junkers stole.

"You want half of everything I get my hands on? What the fuck are you gonna do with that?"

"Fifty-Fifty."

The kid practically pouts.

"Fine. Fifty-fifty."

"Deal."

He grinned wide like a dingo, mood swing evident. Typical radiation-crazed junker.

"Good, good. Great. Awesome. You won't regret this, mate," the kid assured him and reached up to pat his shoulder. His hand retreated quickly when Hog shot him a glare he couldn't even see through the tinted glasses. The slightest tilt of his head.

The kid started talking.

"So I'm thinkin', we should capitalize on that fifty-fifty shit, yeah?"

Not even a minute in and he hadn't stopped running his mouth. Hog considered sewing it shut.

"You want a good cut, we gotta think double. I'm counting on that ride of yours, too. Lotsa people talk about it. What's it run on? You got those tiny uranium thingies or is-"

"Gas."

"What?"

"Runs on gas."

"God, your voice is deep."

"..."

"Okay yeah, so." He pauses. "You sleep during the day?"

"Nope."

The kid cringes.

"Right. So I'm guessing you wanna set up some kinda camp or something? Whaddya gotta do? Ain't you got a job before?"

"Enforcer."

"Right, right. Wait, what's your name again?"

"Roadhog."

"Oh right, you're that big fella. Right."

"I'm making a fire."

"Right."

 

Weeks passed and they learned each other quick. Junkrat put together some sort of side car for the chopper 'cause he "didn't wanna get stuffed between Roadhog's asscheeks twenty-four-seven" and Hog tested it out and somehow it stayed together. They drove everywhere but Junkertown. Junkrat said he didn't wanna "risk it." And Roadhog learned the joy of getting prodded in the gut every time he had a bite to eat, big orange eyes looking at the glass of his mask like a stray cat.  
The kid barely adjusted to the new schedule. Couldn't for the life of him stop complaining daily about the heat of the sun but he tinkered in the night so he spent a good lot of the day sleeping. He thought Roadhog didn't notice but he did. Engine wasn't that loud.

Roadhog barely adjusted to Junkrat himself. Years of traveling alone. The one man apocalypse. It was strange to have someone beside him, especially someone so... Opposite to him. He went on and on and on and never stopped. Roadhog wasn't all that silent. He didn't consider himself silent. But this kid was something else.  
He felt strange about it.

 

Someday Rat decided he wanted to give the cities a try.

"They don't see a lot of us, do they? Could really give 'em a run for their money." He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the whole Outback. "Get it?"

He didn't get it 'cause it was stupid and didn't make sense.

They'd try somewhere south. Sydney or something.

 

The dry wind, barely a breeze, carried it to the cracked road. The sudden smell of burning flesh. Desperation in its most refined form. It trickled in through the filters and out of the corner of his eye he saw the kid sink lower into the seat of the sidecar. He huffed and the kid heard him somehow and mumbled something.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"I wouldn't."

"Didn't say nothin'."

"I know. I wouldn't."

"Yeah. Me neither."

The kid shuddered, then started talking.

"Maybe it's 'cause it's the desert. Can't find nothing out here. You think it was a desert before? Maybe they ate all the bushes and shit before they started eating each other. Ugh, not my cuppa tea there. You never know where people coulda been. Yeah, sure, you never know where anything else coulda been either, but it's... different. Not good for you, I don't think. Wait, maybe there was something worth stealing? Maybe they were greedy and didn't wanna sell their fancy shit and went dry and ate their neighbors instead. Wait, wait. Scratch that, junkers aren't greedy like that. Nothin' worth stealing there, never mind."

The engine's low rumble muted his sharp voice to a soft murmur and it was almost relaxing. Metal clicks flooded the spaces between words.

"Quit it with the tapping."

"Oh."

The kid settles for pressing some button he prays isn't for anything live and he decides it's tolerable enough and keeps driving.

"We almost there yet? You have a lotta connections out here, y'know. How'd you get to know so many people? You a celebrity before it all blew up or somethin'? Nah, no one gets that old. Well, they do, but they're never in between like anyone like that probably would be. How old are you, anyways? You don't look that old. I don't think. You look-"

"Forty-seven."

"What?"

"I'm forty-seven."

The kid cackles.

"Good one, mate."

"I am."

His jaw instantly drops.

"You're forty-seven?"

"..."

"God damn. How... When did it all...?"

"I was twenty-one."

"Oh." 

"You're not very old, are you."

"I'm kind of old."

"How old is kind of old?"

"You sure are talkative today."

"..."

"Okay, okay. I'm uh... What year is it?"

"2075."

"What's... Oh."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three I think?"

"Jesus."

"What?"

"Too young."

"Too young for what?"

"Anything."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

The silence was quieted by the roar of the engine. The kid crossed his arms and started fidgeting again, tapping his left heel to some imagined beat and he stared off at the dry cracked earth.

The smell passed and specks of black scrap began to appear along the horizon. The kid made a noise and jumped up, shielding his eyes with his good hand.

"Oi, that it?"

He nodded and it seemed to satisfy. The kid started to ramble again.

"Thank god. Y'think that'd never end. Not that I didn't enjoy your company and all. You're uh, quite the conversationalist." A snicker. "But anyways, you've seen a lot, haven't you? You were here before the whole Omnic Crisis shebang. You-"

"I was sixteen."

"Oh. Yeah. See? I was sixteen when I lost this motherfucker." He tapped the prosthetic arm with a toothy grin. "So you've seen it before, right?" The pause meant it was an actual question this time.

"Seen what?"

The kid scoffed. "The beach, you drongo. What else?"

"... Yeah."

"You have?"

He nodded.

"Yeah."

The kid sort of stared off like he'd forgotten something and he looks a little lost. Hog ignored it for the hundredth and kept driving.

 

They stopped by a ramshackle motel on the side of the road and Hog shot the keep when he saw a flash of silver. They inspected every ramshackle room and opened every ramshackle door. Empty. Used to be a sort of trap. They found human bones piled outside and Rat decided he'd blow the place to dust. Tomorrow, Roadhog told him. "Gonna sleep some."

He agreed to let Rat lay traps down. Keep it safe.

They ate whatever they could find in the motel and drank a couple ancient bottles of water. Rat wanted to drink them all, but Hog shoved him out of the way with one hand and stuffed the rest (eight total) in the duffel bag.

 

That night, he laid awake in the night and thought about it a little too hard and it tugged at what he assumed used to be his heart, something cold and hard like the rusty fields of scrap at night that kid fired up every now and then. He was just a kid. He was just a fucking kid.

It wasn't his fault he was like this. Or maybe it was, but it sure as hell wasn't his fault he never knew much else. He was just a kid.

And dear God, Mako knew he only blamed himself for it all. If he had a dollar for every minute he spent staring at his own hands, monstrous behemoths he could barely control, cursing himself for all that happened to his once beautiful home, he'd be rich. It was his fault. They were greedy.

But he also knew they weren't, that Oz dropped his home, their home, into the hungry maw of the Omnium and all its hungry bots. There was no god or him, but if there was a god for anyone else, maybe a god for that dirty firebug, may that god strike him the fuck down if they were wrong for fighting for what was ripped from them. 

He spent his childhood watching omnics gun down airports and railway stations full of helpless people and his helpless family and he spent the first few years of his adult life fighting for his home, the one the people that should have been protecting them stole so they could play nice and not get genocided by fucking death machines.

And then he spent nearly 30 years squeezing the last bit of toothpaste from the tube, living as much as he could in this forgotten wasteland the government said his dead brothers created. So they could get away with not doing jack shit to help them live.  
But god, if it could've been different. He knew people died. A lot of them. He knew people who died. And the rest suffered. But it was sobering, seeing it like this. In some kid who's known nothing but this. Hurt to look at him. Not the missing limbs, no, those he didn't know the story of, but he supposed they either came from failed experiments or reactivated bots or other junkers or something. It churned his stomach to see the outline of his ribs, skin stretched to accommodate a body far too long for the apocalypse. The hair or really lack thereof. The blank look when his memory lapsed. The unfinished "plates" (usually just a piece of scrap with a couple mutated lizards slapped on them) with the accompanying excuse to "the restroom." (maybe the places they found had working toilets at some point.)

He looked to the side and saw the kid. Rat fell asleep before him. His arms cradled his frag launcher. He never took off his limbs.

Mako listened to the kid mumble softly in his sleep for the first time and stared at the shabby ceiling.

Tomorrow he'd pretend to forget it all over again but he never forgot. Rat forgot. Sometimes Roadhog forgot. Not him.

Not Mako.

All this moved something in him long forgotten. Make a list. Recite a litany. Remember.

Hurt to think. And he'd been thinking more.

Couldn't figure it out why.

He looked at Junkrat again and wondered if he had a name. He didn't sleep until the light of dawn crept into the dusty tattered room.

**Author's Note:**

> if you catch all the allusions i make to some of my favorite novels n poems n shit you get nothing you just get to know you got em  
> might write some more??? if people like it i guess.  
> im thinkin like an actual heist these cunts are lazy fucks hah  
> ill probably edit the shit out of this cause im real insecure and hate my writing and it took a whooooole lotta will power to post babys first fanficncitonc  
> so gg  
> if ya want somethin to listen to listen to this music its my inspiration  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KKGbNotMVo  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IlF9ualwyzU


End file.
